this untraveled road (where no one wants to go)
by shineyma
Summary: A collection of might-have-beens and never-weres for my "before you fall" series. Every oneshot contained within is unrelated unless otherwise marked and none of them will have any effect on the main continuity. [Part one of the "break the glass" series.] [First up: Grant turns Jemma.]


A/N: First things first, thank you so much for all of the comments and kudos on chapter seventeen. I'll be responding to them presently, I promise. I just wanted to get this finished and posted tonight.

Second, because I always forget, title comes from "Untraveled Road" by Thousand Foot Krutch. Great song.

Third, this is not the story I was planning on starting this collection with. I was going to start with the Grant-shoots-Garrett AU. Except then I got a prompt, and I spent all of class last night thinking about it (instead of accounting-oops!), and here we are.

The prompt, from cinnamonfa, was: "a story where Ward is still Hydra and still betrays the team, but manages to convince Simmons to come with him."

Additionally, I've had several requests for more manipulative!Ward, so. Ta-da!

Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review.

* * *

><p>Two years out of the Academy, Grant nearly dies on an op with Garrett.<p>

They're undercover with some drug smugglers in Berlin, investigating the leader, who SHIELD suspects of being involved in something else. That's literally all the detail Grant has on the man, that he's under suspicion for undisclosed crimes, but that's not a surprise. He doesn't need to know to do his job, so SHIELD's got no reason to tell him.

The point is, they're undercover, along with a third man—Isaac Wilkins, another specialist. They all have fake timers for the op, naturally, and that's where things go wrong: because Wilkins' fake timer is green, so when the ringleader's brother's timer goes off as soon as he makes eye contact with Wilkins, the smugglers smell a rat.

They barely make it out alive. Wilkins takes a bullet in the shoulder, and after dragging him out of there, depositing him at the nearest trauma center, and an absolutely hellish debrief, Grant and Garrett retreat to a nearby hotel and proceed to get very, very drunk.

The whiskey gives Grant the courage (or stupidity) to ask Garrett something he's been wondering for years and years.

"Sir," he says, setting his empty glass aside. "Have you met your soulmate?"

Garrett pauses, then knocks back the rest of his drink and pours himself another. "Yeah."

And that's about where his courage ends, because he's never seen that look on Garrett's face before, and he's not eager to see what'll happen if he keeps pushing. However, Garrett finishes his drink, sets his glass and the bottle aside, and leans forward.

"She was SHIELD," he says, voice a little rough. "I met her at the Academy."

"She was a specialist, sir?" Grant asks, careful not to put too much emphasis on the word _was_. He's pretty sure this is going to be a story with an unhappy ending, based solely on the look on Garrett's face, and he doesn't want to seem too eager.

"Yeah," Garrett confirms. "Best damn specialist you ever saw. She was a tiny thing, too—used to _love_ seeing the looks on people's faces when she kicked their asses. Funniest damn thing."

He picks up his empty glass and turns it thoughtfully in his hands. Grant remains silent, unsure whether further questioning would be welcomed.

"I told you what happened in Sarajevo," Garrett says finally. "How SHIELD left me to die. She was already two years dead at that point. They told me she died in an explosion in Argentina." He puts the glass down gently. "After I recovered, I looked into it."

"And?" Grant prompts after a moment.

"It was true," Garrett says, sitting back. "She died in an explosion. What SHIELD _didn't_ mention was that they were the ones with their fingers on the detonator. They had her plant the bombs, then blew them too early. Didn't give her a chance to get clear." He picks up the bottle and takes a swig directly from it. "The report called it an _acceptable loss_."

Grant exhales slowly. He can't imagine what that must have been like, and he reaffirms his promise to himself (possibly for the seven hundredth time, though he's stopped keeping count) never to trust SHIELD to have his back.

"I'm sorry, sir," he says, for lack of anything better.

Garrett waves that off. "Don't be sorry. Just take my advice." He leans forward and pins Grant with a serious look. "If your soulmate's SHIELD? You get her out of there as soon as you can. Turn her to our side, scare her away, whatever. But don't let her stick around long enough for SHIELD to pull the trigger."

"Yes, sir," Grant agrees.

x

His soulmate, as it happens, is Jemma Simmons, a SHIELD scientist with two PhDs and a less than one percent chance of turning to HYDRA.

But that analysis didn't take into account that her soulmate, himself HYDRA, would be the one attempting to turn her, so—the story from that hotel in Berlin ringing in his ears—Grant decides to give it a shot anyway. He's not willing to stand back and watch SHIELD murder Jemma the way it did Garrett's soulmate.

He'll have to do it carefully—take it very, very slow. One misstep and he could not only blow his cover, but also turn Jemma against him. He can't let that happen. As much as he'd love to drag her away from SHIELD right now—as much as he _hates_ letting her not only work for SHIELD but go into the _field_—he knows that this is one area where he can't afford to rush.

So he forces himself to be patient. He'll get there. Even if he can't turn her to HYDRA, he can turn her against SHIELD. He knows he can.

Her life may depend on it.

x

He starts very, very small.

After the events in Los Angeles, Grant and Jemma spend hours in the lounge, just talking and getting to know each other. The conversation eventually circles around to the mission they've just completed, and Grant slips in a casual, absent sounding comment that he hopes Mike Peterson will be all right.

"He'll be fine," Jemma says brightly. "The dendrotoxin round from the night-night gun delayed the serum's explosive effects. I'm sure SHIELD will be able to devise a permanent solution."

"That's what I'm worried about," he says quietly, as if to himself.

"Sorry?" she asks, brow furrowed.

"Uh, it's—nothing," he says, shaking his head and smiling at her. "What were you saying about your second thesis?"

Jemma hesitates, but allows the change in subject, and the conversation continues. He's nearly positive that she's forgotten the brief digression by the time they part for bed, but that's pretty much what he expected.

He's planted a seed. Just a tiny one, and very shallowly. But he'll add more, deeper, as they go. This is just the start of the garden he'll grow against SHIELD in Jemma's mind.

And…he's thinking in extended plant metaphors. He might be a little drunk. The important thing is that he's taken the first step. It's a very, very small one, but it's a good start.

x

He gets plenty of opportunities to plant subtle thoughts questioning SHIELD in Jemma's mind—when one of her former teachers goes off the deep end and tries to destroy Malta, when a former student of Coulson's (working against her will for Garrett, not that any of the team know that) is taken into SHIELD custody, and when a pyrokinetic off the Index is kidnapped by Centipede and manipulated right off the edge—but there's not much opportunity to take it a step further.

He nearly does when they're on traumatic leave in Italy, but after some thought, he decides against it. In her current state of mind, she'd only see the sense in the order from Blake to dump her out of the plane. It might get her thinking about other acceptable reasons for SHIELD to cross the line of what she considers right, and that's the last thing he wants.

What Blake did has strengthened Grant's resolve, reinforced the need to break Jemma away from SHIELD as soon as possible, but he can't use it to help the process.

As much as he'd like to speed things up, he can't. It's too risky.

A week later, he's glad he waited.

x

Grant's pretty sure the term _blessing in disguise_ applies perfectly to the mission in South Ossetia. He and Fitz are abandoned by SHIELD and very nearly die, which is horrible and something he absolutely should have predicted, and of course he's fucking furious about that, but…

The aftermath makes it worth it.

Jemma puts on a brave face when they first get back, but after a debriefing with Coulson and a very long shower, he returns to his bunk to find her waiting for him. She's upset and bewildered, and when he tries to comfort her, she gives him the perfect opening.

"I just don't understand," she says. "Why would SHIELD send you in without an extraction plan? How could they overlook something like that?"

It's a lucky break—exactly the kind of question he needs her to be asking. He's pretty sure this debacle just moved up his timetable for turning her by at least six months. He needs to tread carefully, though. He can't let this gift-wrapped opportunity make him sloppy.

So he takes a deep breath, then visibly hesitates.

"What?" Jemma asks. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," he says, and tightens the arm he has around her shoulders. "Look, what happened today, it doesn't matter."

"Don't do that," she snaps. She draws away and turns to face him, pulling one leg up onto the bed and pinning him with a stern look. "Don't _coddle_ me, Grant. If you've something to say about this, I want to hear it."

He sighs and mimics her movement. "No, you don't. Trust me."

"Maybe I don't _want_ to," she acknowledges, voice a little softer. "But I _need_ to. Help me understand this, Grant. Help me understand why you and Fitz nearly died today."

He takes both of her hands in his and rubs his thumbs along her knuckles as he thinks. There's a right way and a wrong way to play this. He needs to strike the right balance—make SHIELD sound ruthless and uncaring, without making it sound bad enough that she questions why he's never said anything before…not to mention why he's still _working_ for SHIELD, if it's so bad. It's too soon for that particular conversation.

"It wasn't an oversight, Jemma," he says finally. "They _decided_ not to give us an extraction."

"Why?" Jemma asks, searching his face. "How could they just—just _abandon_ you like that? Without warning?"

"As to why they didn't warn us, I have no idea," he says, with a slight shrug. "But…the thing about the extraction is, the op was a risk from the start. It ended with us in the middle of an enemy compound with fighter jets on the way to bomb it. Fitting an extraction team in there would have been incredibly difficult, if not impossible."

He pauses as Jemma's hands tighten around his, but she just shakes her head and remains silent.

"The device we went there to disable was dangerous," he continues. "It was a major threat to global security. And, in the name of global security, SHIELD decided that it had to be deactivated—at any cost. Fitz and I were considered acceptable losses."

Jemma presses her lips together tightly and stares down at their entwined hands. She swallows twice before she speaks, and when she does, her voice is a little uneven.

"There is nothing _acceptable_ about your loss," she says quietly. "About _any_ loss."

"No, there isn't," he agrees. "But…the lives of the many over the lives of the few. It's SHIELD's way."

"SHIELD's way?" she echoes. She looks at him searchingly. "You're not surprised. SHIELD nearly got you and Fitz _killed_ today, and you're not even a little—has SHIELD done this to you before?"

He's pleased to note the phrasing—has SHIELD _done this_ rather than _has this happened_, the blame solely placed on SHIELD—but his heart twists at the distress on her face. He wants her to turn away from SHIELD. It's entirely necessary, because her life is at risk working for SHIELD—the last two weeks alone have effectively proven _that_—but he hates that he has to do it.

Jemma loves SHIELD. Breaking away from it, realizing just how _wrongly_ she's placed her trust, is going to break her heart.

It's an unfortunate necessity.

"Not to me," he says. "But…" He runs his thumbs over her knuckles again, hesitating. "I told you about Garrett?"

"Your SO," she recalls. "Who's been like a father to you. SHIELD did this to him?"

"And to his soulmate," he says. "Garrett survived. His soulmate didn't."

She breathes in sharply. "What happened?"

"Garrett was pure bad luck," he admits. "Hit with an IED, critically injured. But SHIELD wasn't willing to compromise the op and send a medevac. He had to get himself out of there, get treatment on his own…" He shakes his head. "He could have died—would have, if he wasn't such a stubborn son of a bitch."

Jemma smiles, just a little, but it quickly fades. "And his soulmate?"

"Not bad luck," he says. "I don't have all the details—the op was classified and Garrett doesn't like to talk about it. But the basics…" He pauses, taking in the look on her face. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

She nods once, sharply.

"She was sent to plant explosives at a certain location," he says. "They weren't on a timer; they had a detonator, which was in SHIELD hands. The bombs were triggered early, before she had a chance to get out. Deliberately. Because it was more efficient—more of the targets were hit by detonating the bombs immediately. The report called her an acceptable loss."

She pulls her hands out of his, scrubs them over her face and then runs them through her hair.

"Why would SHIELD do that?" she asks plaintively. "To abandon its own agents is bad enough, but to actually _kill_ one—!"

This is going to hurt her. He knows it will. She's already on the verge of tears, and this is absolutely going to push her over. Hearing this—something that her brilliant mind is already doubtlessly considering but refusing to accept—is going to cause her so much pain. He doesn't want to do it.

But it's for her own good—and for his. He can't live without her. He _won't_. And the more she trusts SHIELD, the more likely it is that that trust will be betrayed.

He has to say it.

"SHIELD…considers its agents expendable," he tells her gently. "Especially the specialists. If the job gets done, and if the world is kept safe…SHIELD doesn't mind sacrificing a few agents to make it happen."

Jemma lets out a shuddering breath and covers her mouth. He can almost _see_ her mind working, ticking over every interaction she's ever had with a superior officer, every order she's ever been given, every mission she's ever heard about.

He watches the realization dawn, watches the truth sink in, and he hurts for her.

It's completely necessary. But as he pulls her to him and lets her cry into his shoulder, he wishes it weren't.

x

Jemma's trust in SHIELD is fractured, but it's not completely broken. She's more in denial than anything else, desperately wanting to find proof that things aren't as bad as he says they are. He works at her slowly and subtly, carefully eroding the last of her doubts while, on the surface, appearing to leave the topic alone.

That's not the only thing he works on. The other half of his campaign is even more subtle, even more _careful_, because it's magnitudes more difficult than turning Jemma against SHIELD: turning her against her morals. Or, rather, not against them, but away from them. He needs to change her focus, get her more concerned with science than with ethics. If he can get her intellectual curiosity to outweigh her principles, it will be that much easier to turn her to HYDRA.

If he can accomplish it, it will be a major draw. HYDRA will give her freedom in experimentation that SHIELD would never allow. Without—or even just with fewer—ethical constraints, she could achieve a lot more. He needs to get her to the point that the potential for scientific progress is more important than her ideals.

Of course, this particular turning will be a long process—years, at least—but he has to start somewhere, so he starts now. It's a good time for it, because Jemma is especially vulnerable, emotionally speaking, as her faith in SHIELD falters and falls.

It's difficult to see her this way, at turns frantic and listless, often distracted—almost _obsessing_ over the whole thing, but it's necessary. Part of turning someone like Jemma, who's so incredibly, unshakably loyal, is breaking them down. It's ugly and it's mean and it's something he hates to do to her, but it's essential to the process. And once she's broken, he can fix her. He can build her back up—into something better, even. Into someone that doesn't trust SHIELD. And, hopefully, into someone that does trust HYDRA.

It becomes even more difficult after he's infected by the berserker staff. It's harder to keep his cool, to not just shake her and tell her about the danger she's in, to tamp down on the urge to shout at her that SHIELD is worthless and untrustworthy, and she needs to _accept_ it, damn it, before it kills her.

But, with May's help, he keeps his control. Slow is still the way to go. He's so much further than he thought he would be at this point, and he needs to focus on being grateful for that instead of angry that he's not even farther.

x

A month later, Jemma gets another unexpected push. Funnily enough, it comes once again from Victoria Hand.

Coulson has been kidnapped, taken hostage by Centipede. That's concerning in and of itself, but Grant trusts Garrett to know what he's doing. If he's taken Coulson, it's for good reason.

Hand has been put in charge of the search effort. However, she's more worried about bringing down Centipede than rescuing Coulson, and it shows. In every briefing she holds—and she holds a lot of them—she makes reference to catching Centipede, to finding Centipede, to _cornering_ Centipede. And in every briefing, Jemma and/or Fitz corrects her, adding on the need to find Coulson.

Each time, Hand just nods and agrees dismissively.

Grant sees the way that strikes Jemma—the way she starts watching first Hand, and then all of Hand's agents, with dislike and distrust.

She asks him about it as she's replacing his stitches, after he managed to tear every single one of them in the process of capturing Vanchat.

"Agent Hand," she says quietly, keeping her eyes on his wound. "She's not interested in finding Coulson, is she? She's already written him off as an…an _acceptable_ _loss_."

She all but spits the last two words, and he's torn. On one hand, it's good that she's so furious about this—he hasn't prodded her at all, today. This is all her, extrapolating from and building on their previous conversations, seeing for herself the underlying problem in SHIELD.

On the other, he can see the pain under the anger, and he hates seeing her in pain.

It's worth it, though. To save her life? A little pain is nothing, compared to what she might suffer if she never sees the truth in SHIELD. So he gives her a little push.

"She has," he admits. "But we're not giving up on him, okay? And, hey, she'll be feeling pressure from above to save Coulson. Fury was Coulson's SO; he's not going to just write him off."

She scoffs. "That's even _worse_, Grant. Agents shouldn't need to have a personal connection to the Director of the bloody agency in order to rate a dedicated rescue attempt!"

He tips his head, acknowledging the point, and is considering whether or not to push it any further—and leaning towards not; tactically, he doesn't want to risk pushing her too far, and emotionally, he really hates to see her so upset—when they're both distracted by Fitz's raised voice.

Decision made, then. It's back to work.

x

Hand gives him even more ammunition when she kicks Skye off the Bus and he, Jemma, and Fitz have to scramble to find a way to keep in contact with her. They put shielding on a burner phone, enough to give Skye one shot at contacting them, and then send her on her way.

He's treated, later, to a spectacular rant from Jemma on the subject of Hand letting her personal feelings interfere in the search for Coulson—"To which she is not even properly dedicated!"

He can see her remaining trust in SHIELD crumbling before his eyes, but it's not as much of a victory as it should be, because she's crumbling with it, and it's horrible to watch.

But he doesn't have a choice, so he carefully modulates his words and his tone—on the surface placating her, while subtly egging her on.

Step one is nearly complete. Once she's fully turned against SHIELD, it will be time to start step two: turning her _to_ HYDRA. That won't be easy. It'll make this look like child's play. But it'll be worth it.

He can keep her safe if she's HYDRA.

x

They rescue Coulson—finding him in horrible shape, and that's step two set way back before he even starts it, damn it—without any help from Hand. That's another strike against SHIELD.

Coulson needs time to recover, and the whole team is given one month's downtime. Grant and Jemma spend two weeks of it at her parents' house in Sheffield. Then, after Christmas, he takes her to one of his properties—namely, the house in Martinique.

It rains most of the time they're there, but the warmth is nice after the cold of England, and neither one of them minds much. He dials back on his efforts to turn her, instead just contenting himself with enjoying her company.

He doesn't give them up completely, of course; for one thing, her life is on the line. And for another, he's kind of bored out of his mind. He's not really a fan of inactivity, and the two weeks at her parents' house was enough to have him vibrating in his skin. It's better in Martinique—he has a gym, so he can at least keep up with his training, and Jemma is always more than happy to provide a physical and/or mental distraction—but he's still itching to go back into the field.

He does take the opportunity, here in his house which he knows isn't being monitored by anyone—SHIELD doesn't even know it exists—to call and check in with Garrett. The conversation is brief, because Garrett's in the middle of an op and Jemma is just in the next room, but they share what they can. Grant confirms, in very vague terms, that he's working on turning Jemma, and that it's going well. Garrett tells him, equally indirectly, that he's got something brewing for the team in the coming months.

"Something that might help you with that project of yours," he adds, and Grant doesn't know whether to be thankful or not. He's a little worried about the tone, to be honest.

He doesn't have time to dwell on the conversation, though, because the trip ends in a breakthrough.

In the interests of keeping the location of this particular property a secret, Grant arranges their own transportation—namely, a commercial boat—to Guadeloupe, where the Bus will be picking them up.

Unexpectedly, this is the final straw for Jemma.

"You don't even trust the team to know where your house is?" she asks as they lie in bed, the night before they're supposed to leave.

Her voice is small and sad, and he rubs his hand across her back.

"It's not the team I don't trust," he reassures her. "SHIELD tracks every move the Bus makes, you know. All May has to do is land at the nearest airfield, and SHIELD will make this location before the end of the day."

"And you don't trust SHIELD." It's a statement, not a question, and before he can figure out how to respond, Jemma props herself up on one arm to meet his eyes. "Be honest. You keep trying to dodge around this and-and _placate_ me. Stop doing that. Please. Just…be honest."

She sounds almost desperate, and as much as it's what he's been waiting for, his throat tightens at the way her voice breaks. This is all for her own good, but seeing her this way…He swallows.

"No," he confirms. "I don't trust SHIELD."

Jemma sits up, her eyes searching his face. "Then why do you work for it? Knowing what it is, that at any moment you could…" She takes a deep breath. "Why are you still a SHIELD agent?"

It might be time. He sits up and scrubs a hand across his mouth, then rubs the back of his neck. She watches him expectantly, discerning eyes taking in and entirely misinterpreting his hesitation.

Just as he means her to.

"I don't just work for SHIELD," he says finally. Carefully. "There's…another organization, inside of SHIELD. Working to change it—make it better. An organization that actually values the lives of its agents."

"Grant," she whispers. "That's…"

"Treason, I know," he agrees when she trails off. "But—"

"No," she interrupts. She presses her lips together, then nods slightly. "It's understandable. Knowing what I do now, I…can't blame you." She looks down at her hands. "But…why have you been trying to talk me away from this?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, careful to sound awkward, like he's been caught out.

"Ever since that mission that you and Fitz went on, when you nearly died, you've been trying to keep me from realizing how horrible SHIELD is. Changing the subject and-and _explaining away_ every sign of SHIELD's corruption. Why would you do that?"

He sighs and takes her hands. "I know how much SHIELD means to you." Smiling ruefully, he traces the veins on the backs of her hands. "I thought that as long as I'm here to protect you, there was no reason for you to know the truth."

"Don't do that," Jemma says, softly but sternly. "Don't coddle me, Grant. You should have told me."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I guess I just…"

"Wanted to protect me from the truth," she supplies. "I understand, and I appreciate it. I know your intentions were good. But I'm a grown woman and a scientist. I'd rather have the truth, no matter how painful."

"Okay," he says.

"No more lying," she prompts.

"No more," he lies. "I promise."

Even though it itself is a lie, he makes the promise easily. Step one is complete. She's fully broken away from SHIELD now, at least emotionally. Now all those thoughts he spent the past few months planting in her mind will have the chance to come forward.

She's going to start questioning everything that SHIELD does. She knows now that SHIELD is rotten—corrupted, as she said—and she knows that something has to change. She's not to the point of signing up for another secret organization, not yet, but she'll get there.

And if previous experience is any judge, the missions that SHIELD sends the team on will only push her farther down that road.

x

Over the following weeks, he continues to work on Jemma. He's careful to never say the word HYDRA. It will be months—if not years—before she's ready to hear _that_ particular truth, if she ever is. But he tells her a little about his 'organization', about the goals and motivations and methods they employ.

All of it is heavily edited, of course. HYDRA's methods won't sit any better with Jemma than SHIELD's do. She's a long way from being able to accept it. Honestly, she might never reach that point. But that's fine.

The important thing—the main thing—is that Jemma doesn't trust SHIELD. Whether he manages to turn her to HYDRA, or just convinces her to quit and go into private industry, what matters is that he's accomplished his main goal. SHIELD won't be sending Jemma to her death. She'll be watching for it and she'll be wary.

Though he tells her a little about HYDRA, most of his efforts remain very subtle. Just a little nudge, here and there—an offhand comment or significant silence, meant to linger in her mind. It's a delicate process, and it's better to fall on the side of not enough prompting than too much.

As predicted, SHIELD itself gives him plenty of help.

x

Their first mission after returning from their month's downtime is at the SciTech Academy. It's a disaster: two cadets, employed by Ian Quinn (who, as it turns out, is working for Garrett), build a machine that freezes things. Somehow it causes a massive storm, and in attempting to stop it, one of the cadets is killed.

Blame for the incident falls on the other cadet, Donnie Gill, and he's packed off to the Sandbox for observation.

He sees clear evidence of the effects the turning process is having on Jemma in her reaction. She's grieved over the cadet's death, of course, especially as she tried and failed to save him, but mostly she's furious.

"Donnie was being _manipulated_," she fumes, later that night. She has to be quiet, since they're in his bunk and the walls are thin, but she kicks her shoes off with a little more force than usual. "It isn't _his_ fault that a trusted member of the international community singled him out as a _pawn_. Why is he being punished?" She whirls on Grant. "He lost his best friend! Isn't that punishment enough?"

"You'd think so," he agrees mildly. He's sitting on the bed, leaning back against the wall, and he watches as she paces back and forth in the tiny space available in his bunk.

"Fitz and I looked over some of his designs this afternoon," she tells him. "He's _brilliant_, Grant. He has so much potential." She glares at the closed door like SHIELD's leadership is on the other side of it. "Potential that will be _entirely wasted_ in observation. All because of a _simple mistake_."

He nods and agrees with her, careful to keep his emotions off of his face. This is a _very_ encouraging sign.

After she's stormed through the worst of her rage, Jemma joins him on the bed, dropping into his lap with a sigh. As she leans against him, he slides and arm around her waist and presses a kiss to her temple. She sighs, a little shakily.

"Those poor boys," she says quietly. "Two lives ruined."

"Because of SHIELD," he murmurs against her skin.

"Because of SHIELD," she agrees.

x

A few weeks after the mission at the Academy, he finds out what Garrett's been planning when their attempt to track a Cybertek delivery to Ian Quinn goes completely FUBAR and ends with Skye getting shot.

After working on her all night, the doctors at the SHIELD trauma center in Zurich say there's nothing they can do. They put her on life support and tell the team to say their goodbyes.

Coulson's not willing to accept that.

They load Skye into a med-pod and leave Zurich, aiming to recreate the miracle that saved Coulson's life.

It turns out that Coulson was dead for _days_, not seconds, after being stabbed—which makes the whole coming back to life thing that much more impressive. He hands over the report of the procedure that saved him to Jemma and Fitz and tells them to figure it out so that it can be used on Skye.

Except the report says he was treated at Bethesda, but when Jemma calls the trauma center there, she finds that the room number and doctors listed don't exist.

Long story short, Coulson was treated at a classified, non-SHIELD location called the Guest House. As far as Jemma can figure, the main element of his recovery was a drug called GH-325—a drug capable of causing cellular regeneration.

Joined by Garrett and Trip, they raid the Guest House and get a sample of GH-325 just in time to save Skye's life with it. Everything ends happily—well, except for the two guards at the Guest House, who both die, but apparently no one's concerned with that—and Garrett and Trip go on their way, Garrett with a sample of the GH-325, which (hopefully) will be able to heal the lingering damage from the IED he took in Sarajevo.

Skye's life is saved. Garrett's, too, not that anyone but Grant and Garrett knew it was in danger. And Grant, once again, receives proof that his efforts to turn Jemma are working, because she's furious.

After seeing Garrett off, he finds her in his—well, it's really more _theirs_, at this point—bunk, sitting on the bed and staring at her tablet. Her knuckles are white from the grip she has on it, and Grant hesitates in the doorway.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"No," she says quietly. "It truly isn't."

He steps into the bunk and closes the door, then crouches in front of her.

"What's up?" he asks, angling his head to try and make eye contact. "What you got there?"

"It's the list of the dead from the Helicarrier," she says, keeping her eyes on the tablet. "And New York."

Ah. He's pretty sure he knows where this is going, and it's only good for him. Still, she's clearly distressed, so he keeps his voice quiet and gentle.

"Why are you looking at it?" he asks.

"Based on what we know of the GH-325's restorative properties—which, admittedly, isn't much—it's my estimation that up to 73% of these people could have been saved by it." She finally looks up from her tablet, and her eyes are full of tears. "The death toll could have been reduced by nearly three quarters. Instead, the drug was given to Agent Coulson, and Agent Coulson only."

He sighs and joins her on the bed, tugging her tablet out of her hands and setting it aside.

"I know why," she says, before he can say anything. "Director Fury was-was playing _favorites_. He decided that Coulson's life was worth more than _any_—than _all_ of these other people."

She shakes her head and presses her hands to her eyes.

"It shouldn't shock me," she murmurs, mostly to herself. "At this point, nothing should. But it does. Why is that?"

She doesn't want an answer—there is no answer, not really—so he remains silent. She curls her legs up under her and leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he slips an arm around her waist.

"Every time I think SHIELD can't sink any lower," she says, and sighs. "Something needs to change."

"Yeah," he agrees, and it takes all of his control to keep the triumph out of his tone, because this whole incident has given Jemma yet _another_ push down the road he wants her to take. "It does."

x

Jemma's already been fully turned against SHIELD, but the GH-325—or rather, Coulson's reaction to it— has additional, unexpected effects. His refusal to allow Jemma to study it _or_ send it out to her colleagues in locations with better equipment quite effectively turns her against _him_, specifically.

Grant is treated to more than a few rants on the subject over the next few weeks. She thinks Coulson is just like Fury, hoarding secrets for the sake of it, more concerned with compartmentalization than with saving lives, and it disgusts her. He subtly encourages the attitude, and even manages to direct some of it at May, who is, as ever, completely in Coulson's corner.

Grant's brief and very unpleasant encounter with an Asgardian sorceress doesn't, despite his fears, knock Jemma off track at all. In fact, it seems to help things. She's openly disparaging (at least in front of Grant and Fitz) about Coulson's decision to leave May on the Bus while he and Grant went after the Asgardian. She calls it arrogant and foolish, and (to Grant alone) ponders whether staying on Coulson's team is really the best decision for them.

It's excellent progress. He estimates that it will be less than two years before he has her willing to turn completely to HYDRA. Of course, she'll never be _happy_ about the prevalent violence, but she'll be able to accept it. It won't matter as much, once he finishes wearing down her morals and manages to redirect her focus to her scientific curiosity.

He's very grateful to Coulson and this team, because without all of the missions they've been on—everything they've seen and everything that's gone wrong—he wouldn't be nearly so far along with turning Jemma. He wouldn't have been even halfway through step one at this point, if not for SHIELD's continuing screw-ups.

x

Of course, just when everything is going well, HYDRA itself fucks things up.

After seventy years of hiding within SHIELD, HYDRA comes out of the shadows. Jemma's alone at the Hub when it happens, with only the incredibly SHIELD-loyal Trip to protect her, and Grant spends the entire time they're apart in a spiral of rage and panic and fear.

It's not just that he doesn't know if she's safe, although that's certainly his main concern. He's also worried because he doesn't know how she's reacting to the HYDRA news. The longer they're apart—the longer it takes for him to reach her and get her to see this his way—the more chance there is that he loses her.

The turning process is a delicate one. And his plan for her did _not_ take into account HYDRA coming out of the _fucking shadows_ at the worst possible moment.

They all survive the Hub, but Garrett lets himself get revealed as the Clairvoyant and taken into custody. Which is another snag in the plan, so thanks for that, sir. Jemma is fine, with not even a scratch, and she interrupts Grant's Oscar-worthy (if he does say so himself) performance of betrayal to take him to the Bus and patch him up.

"Come with me," she says, and her voice shakes as she takes his hand. "I'll fix you up and explain everything."

The rest of the team watches sympathetically as Jemma leads him away. They're not suspicious, which is good. But Jemma's not meeting his eyes, and that's really not.

"Jemma," he starts.

She shakes her head sharply, and he subsides. There's not much he can say here, with so much chance of being overheard, anyway.

When they reach the Bus, Jemma doesn't hesitate, despite the damage that's been done to it since she last saw it. She leads the way up the cargo ramp and into the lab, where she promptly drops his hand and crosses her arms.

"HYDRA," she says flatly. "Your _secret organization_ working to better SHIELD is _HYDRA_."

There's no point in denying it. "Yes."

"Garrett is the Clairvoyant," she says, watching his face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Yeah." He can't bear to just stand here and watch her watch him with that suspicious, heart-broken look on her face, so he busies himself with removing his tac vest.

"I don't understand," Jemma says, running her hands through her hair. "How could you—_HYDRA_? Of all possible things, you betrayed SHIELD for _HYDRA_?"

Okay, that's concerning. If this revelation has managed to undo _all_ of his progress—if she's back to trusting SHIELD because of this—he's going to kill someone. More than a few someones. Possibly every person who's ever so much as _thought_ the word HYDRA.

"SHIELD betrayed Garrett," he reminds her, a little more sharply than he means to. "And Garrett's the closest thing I've got to a father, which means that when SHIELD betrayed him, it betrayed _me_. I was just returning the favor."

"But if SHIELD is HYDRA—"

"Fury isn't," he interrupts. "Remember what he did? He resurrected Coulson and left everyone else dead. He's SHIELD. Hill, she condemned Donnie to a lifetime of observation at the Sandbox, ruined his future because he made a mistake. She's SHIELD. Hand _abandoned_ Fitz and me, left us to die, and she's SHIELD too."

Jemma lets out a shuddering breath and turns away.

"Everything I've told you about SHIELD is true," he says. "And it was all about _SHIELD_. Not HYDRA agents pretending to be SHIELD. Actual, loyal SHIELD agents who consider their fellow agents expendable. _Acceptable losses_ is a SHIELD term."

She swallows.

"How can you possibly expect me to believe that HYDRA will be any better?" she asks without looking at him.

"SHIELD has been in charge for seventy years," he says quietly. "And it's done worse than HYDRA ever did. Isn't it time that HYDRA got a chance to run things?"

She turns back, incredulous. "HYDRA wants world domination!"

"That was all the Red Skull," he disagrees. It's actually not true—he's pretty sure that world domination is still on the agenda—but he's in damage control mode here. He needs to get Jemma on his side, and quickly, before anyone comes looking for them. "HYDRA wants to _protect_ people—from SHIELD as well as other, external threats. It's not about destruction anymore. It's about protection and repair and the freedom of information."

That last one causes a flicker of interest, but only briefly. He hasn't had long enough with her, hasn't managed to separate her completely from her morals. Intellectual curiosity doesn't outweigh her sense of right and wrong, not yet.

Seriously, what the fuck happened to make HYDRA think that coming out of the shadows was a good idea?

"It's still wrong," Jemma argues. "All of the people HYDRA's killed—"

"SHIELD's killed just as many, if not more," he points out.

She makes a frustrated noise and buries her face in her hands for a moment. He waits, unsure whether pushing her will do more harm than good at this point, until she looks up again.

"If HYDRA and SHIELD are just as bad as each other," she says before he can speak. "Then working for HYDRA is just as bad as working for SHIELD."

That's an opening, and he takes it gladly. He takes a few steps, reducing the distance between them, and lowers his voice.

"I'm not asking you to work for HYDRA, Jemma," he says. "If you're not comfortable with it, that's fine. I understand. What I'm asking is for _you_ to understand that I'm trying to do what I think is right, and HYDRA has been my best option." He pauses. "_Our_ best option. Garrett—"

"Garrett runs Centipede," she snaps. "All of the people he's hurt….experiments and kill switches and _whatever_ has been done to poor Mike Peterson…that's _wrong_, Grant. It's just as bad as SHIELD."

"I know," he says, conciliatory. "It's not ideal, I know. But…he hasn't had much choice."

Jemma hesitates. "What do you mean?"

"He's dying," he says. "I told you about the IED in Sarajevo, and how he had to get treatment on his own. What I didn't tell you was that it was a temporary fix. A temporary fix that's failing."

"The GH-325," she realizes. "He's been trying to…what, create something similar of his own? That's what the Centipede serum was meant to be?"

"He needed something with healing properties," he shrugs. Then he bites back a curse, because, preoccupied with keeping Jemma on his side, he forgot about his cracked rib. His voice is a little strained as he continues. "The strength was just a side benefit."

Apparently he hasn't done as good a job hiding his pain as he thinks, because Jemma ignores the argument and frowns apologetically. "You're injured. I forgot. Take a seat, I'll see to you."

She crosses the room to fetch the first aid kit. Grant stays where he is.

"Jemma—"

She whirls and gives him a stern look. Holding up his hands apologetically, he sits down on a stool next to the counter. He watches in silence as she gathers the first aid kit and puts on a pair of latex gloves, ruminating on his next move.

He's going to need to free Garrett somehow. In order to do that, he needs to know what's going to be done with him. But he can't afford to leave Jemma until he knows that she's fully—or at least mostly—on his side.

He won't be able to convince her to join HYDRA. Not at this stage. But he can get her on his side, he thinks.

It's a good thing he started working on turning her immediately upon meeting her, or he'd have no chance of winning her over now. But he thinks he's got her far enough along the path to choose him over her principles, even if only a little. She won't work for HYDRA and she won't condone the actions he has to take in HYDRA's name, but he thinks he can get her to accept it, at least for a little while.

After all, like she said, SHIELD is just as bad as HYDRA. And she hasn't had any problem with him working for SHIELD.

They're both silent as she patches him up. None of his injuries are serious enough to need stitches, so she just cleans the blood away and applies antibiotic ointment to his various cuts and abrasions. There's nothing she can do for his ribs, so he doesn't even mention them.

She's just stripping off her gloves when Trip appears in the doorway, bearing news. Garrett's going to be transferred to the Fridge for immediate interrogation. Just Garrett—the rest of the prisoners are going to be held until things calm down a little.

Just Garrett and a prisoner detail on a small transport. It's the perfect opportunity to free him. All Grant has to do is get on the detail and then, once they're far enough out from the Hub, kill the others.

Of course, there's still the problem of Jemma.

He thanks Trip for the information, then asks him to stick around. Trip agrees and goes to wait out in the hangar, giving them a moment of privacy.

"You're going with them, aren't you?" Jemma asks. She's staring down at the first aid kit like it holds the answers to the mysteries of the universe. "To free Garrett."

"Yeah," he says, standing. "It's the best chance I'm going to get." He eyes her, taking in the set of her jaw. "Are you going to keep this to yourself?"

"I don't know," she whispers. Her eyes, when they meet his, are glossy with unshed tears. "I don't know if I can accept this, Grant. _HYDRA_."

There's a lot to do before he leaves and not enough time to do it in. As much as he'd like to patiently walk Jemma through every possible argument she has until she's fully on his side, he just can't spare that much time. So he goes right for the heart of it.

"If you can't trust HYDRA," he says, taking her hand and tugging her forward to stand right in front of him. "Can you trust me? Can you accept that I'm trying to do what I think is right, and that HYDRA is the best way to do it?"

She looks up at him, searching his face, and is silent for a long moment. Then she swallows, hard, and nods resolutely.

"I trust you," she confirms quietly. "If you think HYDRA is your best option, then…"

She doesn't look happy about it, though, and he leans down to kiss the frown off of her face.

"Thank you," he says when he pulls back. He glances out at the cargo bay, then back at her. "I have to go. Will you…?"

"I'll be fine," she says. "Are you…are you coming back?"

"As soon as I can," he promises. He tucks some of her hair behind her ear and leans down to kiss her again, this time a little more intently. There's an edge of desperation in it, and he regrets that he has to leave her when she's so clearly torn.

"I love you," she says, quietly, when he pulls away. "Please be safe."

"I love you, too," he says. "And likewise."

He takes her hand and raises her wrist to kiss her timer, then steps away.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he reiterates, and then leaves.

x

As soon as he can ends up being much sooner than he expects. He and Garrett get a lot done in a very short amount of time—breaking Raina out of a containment facility, raiding the Fridge, getting their secondary base of operations set up and running—but they hit a road block fairly quickly, in the form of the hard drive he brought with him.

When they landed at the Hub, Skye copied all of the Bus' files—all the research they've done, every mission they've been on, all of the classified intel they've gathered, and so forth—onto a hard drive before wiping the Bus' systems. Grant has the hard drive, and he hands it over to Garrett's scientists at once, intending to have them build off of Jemma's research into the GH-325.

Unfortunately, they hit a snag. Skye encrypted the hard drive, and none of their people are good enough to break it.

"I think it's time you go get that girl of yours," Garrett says, when Raina comes to them with the news. "And get the code to that hard drive while you're at it. Think you can manage that?"

"Absolutely," he says. He's relieved; the longer he's away from Jemma, the more chance there is that she begins to question him—or, more dangerously, his logic. Still, he feels the need to warn Garrett. "She won't be willing to work with us. I didn't get that far."

"Coming out of the shadows screwed us all over," Garrett acknowledges, sympathetic. "Don't worry about it, son. As long as you get that hard drive cracked, you can do whatever you like with Jemma. Put her up in one of your properties, get her a job somewhere…it's all the same to me."

"Thank you, sir."

x

The team isn't at the Hub any longer. Pursued by the US military (which has declared all of SHIELD terrorists), they've fled to a secret base in the middle of nowhere, apparently led there by a secret message Fury left in Coulson's badge.

Which is just…weird, but whatever.

In order to explain away the fact that he left the Hub with three other agents and a prisoner and is arriving at this new base (Providence, apparently) alone, he and Garrett concoct a story about the Fridge being under attack when he arrived.

To make it more credible, he lets Garrett knock him around some. He's pretty sure he cracks another rib, but that's just part of the job. So is the pain in his face—he's pretty sure something's broken there, too.

What matters is that it's convincing. When he reaches Providence, he's led straight to Jemma. Her mouth tightens when she sees him, but all she does is fetch the first aid kit and pull her hair back.

She patches him up in silence as he gives his (false) report to the rest of the team. None of them question him; the trust he's built over the past year, not to mention his injuries, means that it never even occurs to them that he might be lying.

Jemma knows better, but she doesn't say anything to contradict him.

The news of the Fridge's prisoners being loose shakes Coulson. Not surprising, since one of them (Marcus Daniels) is a man obsessed with Coulson's soulmate. He immediately plans an op to recapture Daniels, and Grant can't believe his luck.

It will be infinitely easier to escape the base with Jemma, leaving no one the wiser, if the rest of the team is gone. Of course, it would be pretty hard to have Skye unlock the hard drive if she's gone as well, but luckily she decides to stay, too.

After a round with a polygraph—more difficult than others he's taken, but still not enough to catch him in a lie—Coulson, Fitz, and Trip take a jump jet and leave the base. Of course, that leaves him with May to take down, but luck is on his side once again, as she's already on her way out. Apparently the falling out she had with Coulson over her reporting on him to Fury is bad enough that she thinks she's better off leaving entirely.

He wishes her well with carefully concealed relief. That was one fight he was _not_ looking forward to.

Once she's gone, he turns his attention to Skye. There, his luck runs out, because she's decided that the best way to pass the time while Coulson is gone is to hack NSA satellites to get footage of the Fridge and see where the various prisoners went upon escaping.

Which would be great, if not for the fact that that footage is going to show Grant leading HYDRA's assault on the facility.

Aside from that, there's no good reason for her _not_ to do it, so he has to smile and agree that it's a good idea. Skye also says that the encryption on the hard drive is location-based; they'll have to take a field trip to break it.

So much for his plan of getting her to decrypt it and then knocking her out. He needs a new strategy, and fast, because Skye says it will only take an hour to get the NSA feed.

In the meantime, he searches out Jemma.

He finds her in the kitchen, staring blankly at the fake window.

"Hey," he says, a little hesitantly.

"Hello," she says quietly. She doesn't turn away from the window.

"Jemma…"

"You intend to leave soon?" she asks. "For good, this time?"

"Yeah," he says. Giving up on waiting for her to face him, he crosses the room and joins her at the window. "Are you going to come with me?"

He doesn't know what he'll do if she says no. He could bring her whether she likes it or not, of course—there's not much she could do to stop him—but he doesn't want to force her. If it's at all possible, he'd like to get through this entire experience with her love for him intact.

Jemma breathes out slowly. "What happens if I do? I'll not work for HYDRA, Grant."

"You don't have to," he promises. "You don't have to work at all, if you don't want to."

She looks at him and he shrugs—carefully, since he does have two cracked ribs.

"I've got money," he says. "Properties. Identities. You can go wherever you want, do whatever you want."

"And if I want to continue my research?" she asks, searching his face. "If I decide to seek employment at a lab somewhere?"

There's a definite wrong answer here. He can see it in the set of her face, in the way her chin is angled up. She might not be fully aware of how much work he's put into changing her, in trying to turn her, but she knows—whether consciously or not—that he's been calling all of the shots here.

One wrong word, and he loses her.

Luckily, he's pretty sure that the right answer is also the honest one, in this case.

"Then I'll get you an identity," he says. "Credentials. Whatever you need."

"You won't try to stop me?" she checks.

He has to smile at the slight emphasis on the word _try_. He might have changed her, but he hasn't done anything to dent her backbone—and really wouldn't want to.

"Absolutely not," he confirms. "Whatever you decide to do, I'm behind you."

She looks back at the window. "Then yes. I'll go with you."

She sounds resigned, but he can work with that. As long as she comes with him willingly, their relationship can recover from the damage the HYDRA reveal has done to it.

"Thank you," he says, and kisses her temple. "We'll take the Bus."

"What about Skye and May?" she asks. "And Koenig?"

"May's gone," he says. "Apparently she and Coulson haven't been getting along, and she decided to clear out."

"I certainly can't blame her," Jemma murmurs, and there's disapproval and dislike in her voice when she continues. "He's been horrid to her."

"That's Coulson for you," he agrees. "As for Skye, we'll have to bring her along. I need this hard drive decrypted, and apparently it's location-based."

"And once she decrypts it?" she asks.

Grant's starting to get the feeling that she's working her way down a mental list, trying to find out exactly how far he's going to go in order to decide whether she can really stick with him. That's fine; he's willing to make things slightly more complicated if it means keeping Jemma.

Still, this would be so much easier if he had finished turning her before SHIELD fell.

"We won't be able to hide the truth from her for long," he admits. "Once the hard drive is decrypted, we'll have to get rid of her."

Jemma stiffens.

"By which I mean knock her out and leave her somewhere," he clarifies quickly. "Somewhere she'll be safe until the team finds her."

She relaxes. "And Agent Koenig?"

"There's no need to bring him with us," he says. "We'll leave him here. Tied up, maybe. But he'll be perfectly safe."

"And…" she trails off, looks down at her hands, and tries again. "And Fitz?"

Right. He should've expected that she would worry about Fitz.

"He's welcome to join us," he assures her. "It'll be difficult to get him away from Coulson and Trip, but it's doable."

She takes a deep, shuddering breath and shakes her head.

"No," she says, voice uneven. "No, he doesn't know the truth about SHIELD. He would never agree to leave it. He'll—he'll have to stay with the team."

He wraps an arm around her shoulder and draws her close. "I'm sorry."

She turns into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him in turn, and presses her face to his chest. He's pretty sure she's trying not to cry, so he just rubs one hand up and down her back and remains silent.

After a while, she pulls away, squaring her shoulders and looking up at him with determination.

"When do we leave?" she asks.

"Soon," he says, checking his watch. "Just need to take care of Koenig and get Skye."

"Very well," Jemma says. "Will you need me for that?"

"No," he admits. "Probably not."

"In that case, I'm going to go lie down," she decides.

"Everything okay?" he asks, a little surprised.

"Yes, fine," she says. "I'm just…tired. And you know I'm a terrible liar. I would only tip them off."

"Right," he says. He eyes her, considering. He has the sneaking suspicion that what she's actually going to do is go cry over Fitz, but there's not much he can do there. Short of kidnapping Fitz, that is, but he's pretty sure she won't agree to that. "I'll let you know when it's done, then."

She smiles tremulously and nods, then leaves the room, squeezing his arm as she walks past.

x

He ends up crossing Koenig off, because it's just safer that way. Jemma's already settled in on the Bus, and after today she's not likely to have any contact with anyone else on the team, so she never needs to know.

He hides Koenig's body, then cuts the cameras and erases all of the footage—from the entire base—from the past few hours, just for good measure. Then he goes to get Skye.

Things get a little weird, there. She takes a little convincing before she agrees to get on the Bus right away—first she wants to get some things, then she wants to talk to Koenig, then she asks about Jemma.

"She's already on the Bus," he says, more than a little impatiently.

Something passes over Skye's face—more than just worry, he thinks. For a moment, she looks downright panicked.

"What?" he asks. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she denies, shaking her head. "It's just—is she okay?"

He eyes her. "She's fine. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, except—if Fitz and the others are in danger and need the intel from the hard drive, I would expect her to be out here dragging me onto the Bus personally."

Oh, right. That's a good point, actually. If Fitz actually were in danger, Jemma wouldn't be content to just sit on the Bus and wait for them to be ready to leave. He should've considered that.

Well, in his defense, it's been a really long week.

"Okay," he sighs. "I'll be honest."

"Yeah?" Skye asks, crossing her arms across her stomach. "Is something wrong?"

"Jemma's not feeling well," he says. "She went to go lie down before the others called and—I didn't tell her."

"You didn't tell her that Fitz and the others are in danger?" she asks. "Really?"

"I'm hoping she'll sleep through the whole thing," he says. "Optimistic of me, I know. But I hate to worry her and there's nothing she can do until we have that intel, so…"

He raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Skye starts a little.

"Right," she agrees. "Sorry. Lead the way, then, Tin Man."

"Don't start that again," he warns. "Now, where are we headed?"

"LA," Skye says. "There's a diner I used to spend a lot of time in. The drive's coded to its coordinates."

"LA it is, then," he says, barely managing to hide his frustration. They're a long way from California—it won't be a short flight. He wants to be done with this: get the drive unlocked, dump Skye somewhere, and get the hell away from these remnants of SHIELD before Jemma can change her mind. "I'll need the exact coordinates, so we can land as close to the diner as possible."

"Sure," she nods. "And maybe while you're setting the course I can check on Simmons."

"I'd rather you didn't," he says, glancing at her as they walk up the cargo ramp. "Like I said, I'm hoping she'll sleep through this whole thing."

He pauses to hit the button to raise the ramp, and when he turns around, Skye is looking at him with an expression he can't quite place.

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, smiling. "It's just—you worrying over Simmons. It's cute."

He shakes his head. "Oookay. About those coordinates?"

"Right," she says. "I'll just—write those down for you."

x

Once he gets them in the air with their course locked, he gets Skye set up in the lab, messing around with her laptop. He has no idea what she's up to, but it doesn't matter. She has no way of contacting the team—he's already hidden the sat phone, and they're not going to be checking their email while they're trying to protect Coulson's soulmate—and therefore no way of getting tipped off that he's not exactly being honest with her.

"We need to cover this up," he muses, looking at the SHIELD logo painted on the side of the SUV.

"Yeah," Skye agrees. "We're not the most popular kids in town, at the moment."

"No, we're not," he sighs. "I'm gonna check on Jemma, then I'll get the spray paint and take care of this."

"I thought you wanted to let her sleep," she says as he starts to turn away.

"I do," he says, frowning at her. There's something about her expression, her tone…Does she know?

He shakes it off. There's no way. He's one of the best—best marks since Romanoff in espionage, thanks very much—and there was no evidence for her to find. Except Koenig's body, that is, but he checked the penny before they left, and it was still there.

He's just being paranoid. Of course Skye is worried about Jemma. It's been a long few weeks—months, really—and Skye and Jemma are close. It's only natural for Skye to be worried.

"I'm just going to check on her," he continues. "I won't wake her up. She'll never know I was there."

"And you think I can't manage that?" Skye asks.

"Being quiet enough not to wake her?" he asks. "No."

"Okay, fair point," she admits. "So, you go check on Simmons. I'll be down here."

"Back in a minute," he says, and heads upstairs.

Jemma is in his bunk, but she's not asleep. She's sitting cross-legged on the bed, back against the wall, with a pillow clutched to her chest. She looks up when he opens the door, and the clear signs she's been crying make something in him ache.

He closes the door and sits down next to her. She wastes no time in curling up against him, and he wraps an arm around her shoulder, holding her close.

"I'm sorry," he says into her hair.

"It's not your fault," she says, a little hoarsely. She clears her throat and settles herself more firmly against him, and he tightens his grip a little.

"What can I do to make this better?" he asks.

"You can't," she says. "Not really. But…"

"Yeah?"

"Stay with me?" she requests. "I know you need to see to Skye, but…just for a while?"

"Yeah, of course," he says. "As long as you need."

They sit there in silence for a long while. The only sound in the bunk, other than the hum of the Bus' engines, is Jemma's slightly shaky breathing. She's trying not to start crying again, and he hurts for her.

For his part, though, he's mostly satisfied. He's sorry that Jemma's upset, and he hates to see her this way, but she'll get past it soon enough. And aside from this, things have gone fairly well. He might not have managed to finish turning her, but he got far enough that she's willing to leave Fitz behind. That's pretty impressive, if he does say so himself.

He got them away from Providence cleanly enough. All that's left is to get Skye to unlock the hard drive, dump her somewhere, and then get it back to Garrett. Then he'll get Jemma set up somewhere safe, with the identity and credentials she'll need to get a decent job—because he wouldn't mind funding a life of leisure for her, but he's pretty sure she'd go out of her mind with boredom if she didn't have science to work on.

He'll be able to get back to work with the knowledge that Jemma is safely out of the crossfire. And once this is finished, once the remnants of SHIELD have been crushed and Garrett's life has been saved and the Deathlok project is complete, he can join her, wherever she's settled, and get started on the rest of their lives together.

She's miserable now, and that's unfortunately necessary. But one day, when this is over, he'll make her happy.

He will.


End file.
